


This Youthful Heart Can Love You

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Baseball, Cutesy cute cuteness, Day 3, F/M, First Dates, Physical Therapy, Skoulson RomFest 2k15 REDUX, Skoulsonfest, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4404596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I mean, if you’re worried I’m going to embarrass you with my skills, you really shouldn’t be,” Skye said casually, hitting another ball right at the moment Coulson made some kind of scoffing/snorting sound. She really wished she could have looked right then.<br/>“I’m not concerned,” Coulson assured her, and she could practically see him cross his arms. “I batted--”<br/>“--Over .400, yes I heard.” </p><p>Skye brings Coulson to the batting cages. And maybe accidentally it discovers it's a date. </p><p>For SkoulsonFest Day 3: Baseball, Physical Therapy</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Youthful Heart Can Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Just ALL THE FLUFF IN THE WORLD. (To make up for the misery that is my next one, hahaha.)  
> Title is from Tracy Chapman's "Give Me One Reason."

Skye swung hard, but in a controlled motion, smiling slightly at the satisfying _ping_ of the bat hitting its target. Watching the ball sail across the cage, Skye moved back into position, waiting for the next and final pitch. It shot out like a cannon but Skye was ready, sending the baseball to the far end of the outdoor cage, stopping only when it hit the netting.

Relaxing her stance, Skye felt the bat ringing in her hands, vibrating from the force of hitting the ball. _That's a new touch_ , she thought the first time it happened, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It was like the bat was radiating with the power behind her hit, whispering ‘ _Success_ ’ in her ear. Turning around she saw Coulson standing on the other side of the net, watching her curiously.

“Impatient for your turn, Director?” She asked, propping her bat against the ground and leaning on it a bit. Coulson seemed to hesitate.

“I was just wondering if…”

Skye scoffed, offended. “If I used my--” she looked around them briefly. There were a few other patrons at the batting cages that evening, but the spots on either side of them were free. _Still_. “...talents to cheat?” She raised a challenging eyebrow and Coulson shrugged.

“Sir, I’ll have you know that I was excellent at this before I could...well, you know.” She finished her showboat-y statement rather lamely, but wasn’t going to let that bother her.

“Far be it from me to doubt you,” the director replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You know what? Take another round. For my foolishness.”

Skye grinned haughtily. “Don’t mind if I do.” Moving over to the small red control box, she upped the pitch speed slightly and pressed the button.

“I hope you’re not stalling,” Skye said to Coulson, right before hitting her first pitch. _Child’s play_. Even without her powers. “After all, this trip was not just for my entertainment, believe it or not.” She hit the next one.

“Not stalling,” Coulson told her, and Skye didn’t have to look to see that he wasn’t lying.

 _Good_ , she thought. Because she could do this while talking no problem, but she wasn’t cocky enough to take her eyes off of the machine. “I mean, if you’re worried I’m going to embarrass you with my skills, you really shouldn’t be,” she said casually, hitting another ball right at the moment Coulson made some kind of scoffing/snorting sound. She _really_ wished she could have looked right then.

“I’m not concerned,” Coulson assured her, and she could practically see him cross his arms. “I batted--”

“--Over .400, yes I heard. In _little league_.”

Coulson mumbled something that sounded like, ‘thanks, Mack,’ and Skye grinned.

She was glad he seemed to be in a good mood, because, as she said, they weren’t just there for fun. Since he had gotten his prosthetic, Coulson had been oddly mopey, in a way Skye found unexpected. He had gotten a hand back, after all, and it looked identical to his last one.

But it _wasn’t_ his last one. It felt different, moved differently. His muscle memory was gone, his reflexes slowed down.

 _‘But it--it’s better than, you know, before, right?’_ Skye had asked him one night, after walking into his office and finding him standing over a broken glass. He confessed. He was having a hard time, and it was frustrating him.

‘ _Obviously_ ,’ he told her, snippier than usual. Two hands was an improvement on one for him, but actually having a hand that wouldn’t do what it was supposed to? It was, to use her own terrible analogy, like how having slow Internet could be more irritating than no Internet at all.

Yeah, he wasn’t super amused.

But eventually, after some suggestion on Andrew’s part and prodding on hers, they were able to get Coulson to agree to a little physical therapy.

Of the non-medical, off-base, may come with fries and a milkshake variety.

So okay, maybe fun wasn’t the _only_ purpose, but it was a part of it.

“Is that why you chose batting cages?” Coulson asked, as Skye knocked another one out of the park.

Well. She assumed it would have gone out of the park. _Damn nets._

“Partly,” she replied, vague. “Did you play past little league?”

Dangerous waters, asking about his past. Her usual route, especially lately, was to wait for him to come to her. Wait for him to offer information, not push for it. She hit another ball, but just clipped it.

“Until high school,” he admitted, and Skye’s eyebrows shot up under her helmet. “My dad was more of a football guy when I was younger, but my mother played softball growing up.”

Skye smiled in surprise. “Was she good?”

“She mostly just talked about it,” he said simply. “Saw a couple old pictures. She stopped playing on a team when she got married, so I never really saw her in action. But sometimes after a little league game she would stay on the field with me, while it was still light out. Toss a ball back and forth, give me tips.”

“I bet she was awesome,” Skye speculated, whacking her last ball that round extra hard. “Like, ‘League of Their Own’ style.” Turning to Coulson as she pulled the helmet off her head, she saw a fond smile on his face.

“I think so too,” he agreed. Skye stepped out of the cage, handing him the bat and the helmet. Coulson paused, not putting the helmet on yet. Skye wondered if it was sweaty. “You’re good at this,” he told her, and Skye shrugged with dramatic faux-modesty. “You went to places like this a lot?”

“Well, it’s hard to join teams when you change schools every couple months,” she said, shrugging. “Or, you know. Drop out entirely.”

Coulson smiled sort of and put the helmet on his head. Skye didn’t laugh, knowing she had probably looked just as ridiculous. Watching him walk into the cage, she saw him flexing his left hand. Was it nerves? Literal or figurative?

He lowered the pitch speed a bit on the controls, pressing the button to begin. Deciding to give him privacy for the first couple, Skye bent down to reach into the backpack they had brought. It was woefully lacking in snacks, but that was mostly because she may have been hoping to get a milkshake out of the deal.

Grabbing a bottle of water, she looked up to see Coulson focused. A couple baseballs were on the ground behind him, indicating the first pitches were predictably rough. He managed to get a piece of the third, knocking it off to the side. After shaking out his left hand, like he was willing it to pay attention, he got back into his batter's stance.

He improved, pitch after pitch, getting into his groove. Skye simply watched. It was interesting to say the least, seeing Coulson like that. Focused, but not mission-focused. She wondered if he was still keenly aware of the hand that wasn’t his. She found herself forgetting, and not just because it looked exactly like his old one. His motions had become more comfortable, less stilted. He was twisting his hands around the bat, but just to improve his overall grip.

Skye was jolted out of her train of thought when a loud group of guys took up residence in the spot next to theirs.

They were in their own little world, but Skye could definitely feel the eyes looking over at her and Coulson occasionally, maybe a whisper or two between the spectators while one of their friends took his turn at bat.

She may have been imagining things, but it looked like Coulson was distracted as well. An obnoxiously loud laugh coincided with Coulson striking out, and although he wasn’t one to succumb to the delicate male ego syndrome, Skye wondered if he was bothered. Seeing the light pop on, indicating it was his last pitch, Skye closed her eyes.

She didn’t have to see to know that it was a great hit. The impact made a loud, pleasing crack, sending the ball whipping through the air, in a beeline to the netting. When she did open her eyes, she could see that it not only hit the net, but nearly went right through it, startling everyone in the vicinity.

“ _Damn_ ,” one of the guys next to them muttered, causing the others to laugh and make a little commotion before bringing their attention back to their own machine.

Picking up her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder, she looked over at Coulson.

He wasn’t looking at her, clearly trying to look disapproving at her clear use of her abilities.

But even he couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at his lips.

“Ready to go?” She asked cheerfully.

***

“Why the batting cages?” Coulson asked suddenly, after a few minutes of amicable silence. Removing her lips from her straw, Skye sat up. She had indeed gotten her milkshake out of the deal, since she _happened_ to spot a diner on the drive back.

 _Happened to see it, chose the location because of it, potato potahto, etc._ They had each gotten a milkshake, her chocolate, him strawberry, and a basket of greasy diner fries she wanted to marry/dip in said milkshake. But she would restrain herself for now.

“You needed to get out,” she told him honestly, “and I don’t know, it’s the kind of place I’ve been to a lot, I thought it might help.”

Coulson nodded, looking at his own shake and taking a sip. Skye tried not to acknowledge the weirdness of watching _Director Coulson_ drink from a straw.

“Why did you go so much?” He looked genuinely curious, and Skye figured she should answer his honesty with her own.

“At first? It was a cheap date,” she admitted, and Coulson gave the barest of raised eyebrows. “There was a place in Austin like this one, a little less expensive. They even sold crappy beer for a few bucks, which I don’t know if that was even legal, but we weren’t complaining.”

“Alcohol and baseball bats? Sounds delightfully hazardous,” Coulson remarked, and Skye chuckled.

“It had its charm. So I liked it there, became my go-to for first dates,” she took another sip. “Ended up on _a lot_ of those, I guess, picked up a knack for it.”

Coulson nodded, not appearing to be bothered by the number of dates she was admitting to. It wasn’t a ton, but a significant amount. Mostly because the majority were unsuccessful. “After a while it became a great filtering tool,” she told him, and Coulson’s brows dipped in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she began, leaning on her elbows and steepling her fingers. “I started noticing that the better I got, the more frustrated guys would be when they weren’t doing so great. So I made it into kind of a system: if a guy got pissed and grumpy when I kicked his ass, it wasn’t going to be a good fit. No second date.”

Coulson looked both amused and impressed, and Skye gave herself a mental pat on the back. It really was a good system to weed out the hyper-masculine dudebros who couldn’t handle losing to a girl. Those were often unpleasant nights, but at least she got them out of the way early and didn’t waste her time.

“Did you ever take Miles there?”

The personal question surprised her, and it seemed to surprise Coulson a bit too. Grabbing a couple fries, Skye shoved them in her face and chewed before answering.

“No, actually,” she said, and Coulson didn’t push. Probably letting her end the subject if she wanted to. Oddly enough, she didn’t. “I met him when I joined the Rising Tide, we went out a couple times after 'projects.' So I guess technically _our_ first date was in a White Castle drive-thru after accidentally hacking into the mayor’s porno stash.” Coulson raised his eyebrow on ‘accidentally,’ and while Skye would say it wasn’t what they were looking for--they _were_ looking for evidence of extortion, nothing personal-- Miles did tend to ‘stumble upon’ embarrassing documents during most hacks.

“So, batting cages were strictly first dates only?”

She sighed. “No. I already, you know, _really_ liked him at that point, but had no clue if he would make the cut or not.” Her system didn’t leave much room for negotiation, after all. It was a deal breaker: sexist and insecure? End of discussion. Do not pass Go. Have a great life.

“And you didn’t want to take that risk.” Skye shook her head.

“No one else ever passed,” she admitted. Coulson didn’t say anything, but looked thoughtful. Looking back, did she think Miles would have made it? She wasn’t sure. She liked to think so, because for all the shit he gave her about her hacking skills, it was never because she was a woman. Just because she wasn’t _him_. Maybe, if she absolutely destroyed him at the batting cages, maybe he would have gotten irritated. Or maybe he would have laughed, made some self-deprecating comment and basically cement himself in her life. ‘ _This is it_ ,’ she would have thought. ‘ _This is what all those other guys were missing._ ’

What would they do after? She’d never gotten to that point. Maybe grab another beer, stay until they closed. There was a 24-hour diner down the road, maybe they would have--

_Oh._

_Shit._

Was she on a date with Coulson? Was that what was happening?

It wasn’t that the idea was disturbing, but it was strange. There came a point in her life, probably right after moving to LA to continue her search for her parents, when Skye came to the conclusion that that time in her life was over. How could it not be? The time for casual dates and diners and batting cages ended when she began targeting a shadow organization that worked with aliens and superheroes.

And the idea that she and Coulson could end up doing something so...normal?

She loved Coulson, but did she want _this_ with him? Milkshakes and personal stories and cheesy date activities? It would be dishonest to say she never considered Coulson attractive or desirable. After all, how is a girl supposed to feel when a handsome man in a nice suit takes her for a ride in a flying car?

But she guessed that she’d been under the assumption that if _something_ were to happen between them, it would be epic or dramatic. They fought aliens and neo-nazis. They saved the world. They saved each other. If there was no sweeping dramatic music and kissing after any of that, it wouldn’t happen, right?

She looked over at Coulson, who didn’t seem to notice her dilemma. His outfit was far more casual than she was used to, at her request of course. He seemed relaxed, the lines around his mouth not as prominent, his hair not as perfectly-in-place as usual. She’d actually looked at his hands more since the incident, rather than avoid them completely. They were, well, _manly_. Calloused in places but not rough. It was eerie, but the new hand somehow looked as worn as the other, as if it had been there all along, through the childhood scars and the battles, through death and coming back to life.

Coulson was _a man_.

Skye was aware of that, but never really dwelled on the implications. They were a man and a woman who may or may not have been on a date.

_Or maybe I’m looking way too much into this._

Coulson made this quiet sighing noise, not trying to grab her attention or anything, but maybe just tired. Skye looked over at the clock, surprised to see how late it was. She turned back to Coulson, about to ask if he wanted to head out soon, when he reached for a fry, dipped it into his milkshake and popped it in his mouth.

Her eyes widened.

Catching her eye, Coulson paused before swallowing.

“Sorry, is that gross?”

Skye laughed. “Gross? Um, I was more concerned about who taught you my secret.” She grabbed a fry and dipped it in her own shake, incredibly pleased with herself. And him.

“Oh, _that’s_ your secret?” Coulson asked, smiling slightly. “Not altering vibrations to improve my batting average?”

Skye pointed a fry at him. “I could probably get you a spot on a major league team, you know,” she said, leaning forward when she saw him look away, smirking. “Seriously, if you ever want to take a break from all this SHIELD stuff, we could get you out there. New identity, the whole nine yards.”

Coulson looked amused, but also something she couldn’t really name. Probably at the mention of ‘needing a break from SHIELD.’ She knew he thought about it, he’d told her as much way back when. _And I doubt much has changed his mind since._

“You know if I did that, you’d have to be there to keep up the charade. All the games, all the practices,” he told her, leaning back in the booth.

“So I’d be there,” Skye answered, probably too quickly and too sure of herself because Coulson’s eyes got kind of big. “Not like the multiple identity thing would be much of a stretch for me,” she added. “Or the, you know. Being--”

_With..._

“--around you. Thing.”

Taking a loud, awkward slurp of her shake, Skye wondered if maybe she should wrap up for the day. Clearly she had a lot on her mind and was not far from spewing it all out there. Coulson didn’t say anything, but smiled down at the table with a look she didn’t dare label as “content.” It made her feel better regardless, and she relaxed her shoulders a bit, taking another sip.

“My catching will need some work,” Coulson said casually.

And that’s how Skye ended up with chocolate milkshake coming out of her nose.

***

So maybe it wasn’t a glamorous end to their “date,” with her dribbling chocolate shake down the front of her shirt and practically choking on it. Rather than laugh at her, Coulson actually felt bad, handing her napkins and patting her back and apologizing profusely. He even asked if she wanted to change, which meant he was either going to take her to a late night gift shop or give her his own henley (she assumed he had an undershirt on as well, because Coulson obviously would.)

She never figured that out, sadly, as she told him it was fine. They were headed back to the base anyway, she didn’t really care if her shirt had a stain.

Driving down the dark country roads in Lola, Skye focused on the positives: she hadn’t choked to death, that was good. Coulson seemed to be better, not nearly as melancholy as he’d been lately. And, hey, she may or may love him _like that_ , though she was definitely leaning towards the “may.” Strongly.

There were certainly worse people to find yourself loving, right? In fact, Skye would venture a guess to say there wasn’t anyone better. More convenient, maybe. More possible, probably. But definitely not better. Venturing a look at Coulson as he drove (she knew that’s one of the things he missed most, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. The longing stares at Lola were telling enough,) Skye came to terms with it. For better or worse ( _Phrasing! Skye_ , she warned herself,) she definitely felt _that way_ about Coulson. AC. It was kind of mind-blowing, once she put a label to it. Because it all really made sense. She wanted to go on dates with him, see his relaxed smile and watch his manly hands as he counted out bills for the waitress’s generous tip.

She also wanted to fight bad guys with him, and help treat his injuries and keep him from getting injured in the first place, really. It was so strange to finally have the words to explain it, to not push away those feelings as invalid or wrong because of one reason or another.

“You’re quiet,” Coulson said, glancing over at her. If he was surprised to catch her staring, it didn’t show. “Tired?” Deciding to go with that, Skye nodded. “You can sleep if you want to, we still have a ways to go.”

She shook her head. “Nah, I’m good,” Skye told him. For some reason (well, she knew the reason _now_ ,) the idea of falling asleep and waking up to the night being over was entirely unwelcome. Coulson was quiet for a bit, and Skye began to worry she might actually fall asleep.

“Let’s say someone _did_ pass the batting cages test,” he began, and Skye sat upright. “What would happen then?” 

“I’d probably make him buy me a milkshake,” Skye said immediately, really hoping she was not completely wrong here. She wasn’t sure if it was the moment or the wind in her ears as they drove with the top down, but Skye wondered if it suddenly got quieter. Or louder.

“Oh,” Coulson replied.

“Yeah.”

 _I was wrong. I was so wrong,_ Skye lamented, tilting her head back and looking up at the sky.

“And your second date,” Coulson said.

_Does he actually sound nervous?_

“What would that be?”

Skye kept her eyes trained upward, trying not to overload. “Uh,” she began, wracking her brain. _What would I do? What do I like? Do I have hobbies? What do I actually enjoy doing?_ “Probably watch a movie. And eat. Food.”

_If he didn’t already change his mind he will now._

“Movie, food, got it,” Coulson said, and Skye’s eyes narrowed. He sounded amused. She almost liked him better when he was nervous, especially with whatever her deal was at the moment. And that just wouldn’t do.

“I don’t put out until the third date, though,” she remarked casually, “on principle.” It was subtle, but the car definitely went a little sideways for a moment there.

Coulson cleared his throat, giving his head a tiny little shake before regaining his cool.

“I’ll manage my expectations,” he said wryly, and Skye couldn’t help it. She asked him to stop the car. Looking curious, but also a bit concerned, Coulson did as she asked.

Skye turned to face him. “Just to be clear, we’re talking about,” she gestured between the two of them.

“Having sex?” Coulson asked, and Skye was decidedly uncomfortable (in not-a-bad way) with him using _that word_.

“No! Well-- yeah, I guess, obviously I’m not ruling anything out,” she clarified, and understood Coulson’s expression as one of shock and a touch of excitement. “But like, this was like, a date?”

“Were you not under that impression?”

“Were _you_?”

Coulson looked flustered. “I wasn’t, until you brought it up,” he explained, and Skye felt a bit guilty. If she had a hard time figuring out her hang ups, she could only imagine what he was going through. Especially now that Life At the Playground was looming over their heads again.

“And you’re cool with that,” Skye asked, wondering how two people who clearly liked each other could be having this many communication issues. Still.

“Of course I am, Skye,” Coulson said quietly, not looking at her. Reaching over, Skye wrapped her hand around his.

“Because I am too, you know. Obviously,” she told him, squeezing his hand and smiling when he squeezed back. “I just didn’t want to assume, I guess. Because we kind of tend to…”

“Not talk about it?” Coulson smiled, and she nodded.

“Okay!” She sighed sitting back in her chair. “It is decided. Date Number One is complete.”

“Well...” Coulson cleared his throat, turning to face her again. Skye looked over, curious, only to find his face _right there_. She managed to close her eyes just as his lips met hers. It was sweet, the kind of kiss a boy gives a girl in his car after taking her to a diner, before dropping her off at home. Well, technically they were going to the same home, but she wondered if this meant he would walk her to her door when they got back.

Maybe give her another kiss there, maybe one with a little more heat to it, with the knowledge that there was a bed on the other side of that door and a warmly lit private office they could have their morning coffee in down the hall, and another, probably bigger bed further down that way.

Coulson pulled away slowly, and Skye let her eyes drift open. “ _Now_ Date Number One is complete,” she murmured in agreement. They really would have been remiss to leave that out.

Turning back to the wheel, Coulson got Lola back on the road, heading home once again. “Content” was absolutely how Skye would describe her mood now, trying and failing to keep the grin off of her face.

“So, Date Number _Three_ , huh?” Coulson asked, mouth turned up in a smirk.

“Well, there could be an exception,” Skye responded, watching a goofy smile light up his face this time.

After all, they were in uncharted waters now.

 


End file.
